Gus got a day off from the hospital, and he hitchhiked back to Aldbourne, but Easy Company was no longer there.
He learned from a duty officer that Easy Company was at Monbéliard Airport, waiting to participate in a major operation.
"soldier Forrest Gus!" As Gus was about to look for a ride to Monbéliard, he heard someone calling him from behind.
He turned around and saw a face he really didn't want to see—Lieutenant Herb Sobel.
Gus frowned, then waited for Captain Sobel to walk up to him, saluted him, and said, "Captain!"
Sobel nodded at him, then said, "You just came out of the hospital? Did you sneak out? Do you know what kind of stupid thing you did? You are absent without leave, which is a violation of military discipline."
Gus's expression changed, and he suddenly felt a little scared. If this guy reported him, he would have to return to the hospital, or even be sent to a military court. He knew this guy was not a good person.
"I just didn't want to miss out!" Gus hesitated and said, "I don't want to be assigned to another unit. I want to be with my brothers in Easy Company, sir!" Gus knew that if he couldn't return to the company within 90 days, he would be assigned to other units when he was able to fight again. This was unacceptable to him.
Sobel looked at him, then suddenly smiled slightly and said, "So what are you doing? Looking for a ride? Well, I'm about to deliver packages to Monbéliard Airport, so I can give you a ride!"
"Sir?" Gus couldn't believe his ears. He looked at Sobel in confusion.
"Get in the car. It's that big truck. There's still room in the back of the truck. Go find it yourself. We're leaving soon!" Sobel said, glancing at Gus, then turned and walked towards the big truck.
September 17, 1944, was a beautiful late summer day in northwestern Europe, with a cloudless sky and not a breath of wind. Twenty-four airfields in central southern England were bustling, with ground crew, paratroopers, and glider troops boarding, making the airfields densely packed. From the airborne navigation planes flying overhead, it looked like swarms of ants.
"Easy Company brothers, board!" Captain Winters, as he had during the Normandy airborne landing, loudly shouted to each jumpmaster of Easy Company's boarding teams, reminding them. Then he stood at the cabin door, personally pulling each soldier in his plane onto the aircraft.
At exactly 10:00 AM, the planes started. A huge roar instantly swept across Monbéliard Airport. The C-47's fuselage suddenly shuddered, then began to taxi forward. Then its nose tilted upward, as if a fat swan trying to break free from its restraints, dragging its heavy body, it slid into the sky. From its two wings, dense formations of planes, like locusts, covered the sky.
1,131 fighters, 1,545 transport planes, and 478 gliders took off from twenty-four airfields in central southern England, forming a fleet, flying west along two routes towards the North Sea. The largest Allied airborne operation began.
"Boom!" The sound of ground anti-aircraft guns came out, then smoke exploded in the air. The sound was sparse, and it was clear that this operation was completely unexpected by the Germans; they were completely unprepared. But then came the sound of fighters roaring overhead, and the ground anti-aircraft fire was quickly silenced by the fighters' strafing.
The plane formations were calm, without any panic or disruption of formation, completely different from the panic during the Normandy airborne landing. This was a good start for all the soldiers participating in the airborne landing.
The green light for jumping came on. Winters shouted to the ready brothers in the cabin, "We jump!" Saying that, he plunged into the blue sky. Without ground artillery fire, without the unsettling strafing of German MG42, everyone landed smoothly in the designated jump zone.
"Oh, God, there are German armored vehicles!" Pika Ke, still in the air, saw seven or eight German tanks on a nearby road. He suddenly became very worried. If they attacked them while they were still in the air or landing, it would undoubtedly be disastrous.
Several "whoosh" sounds of fighters flying by, then several fighters dropped bombs towards those armored vehicles, and "boom—" continuous explosions occurred. Five armored vehicles were hit and caught fire. The remaining two tried to escape and were hit by rockets from fighters that came from behind, bursting into flames. Several Germans crawled out of the armored vehicles and were immediately hit by the aircraft's machine gun bullets. One German officer was even cut in half by a bullet.
"Oh—hooray, our airborne warriors!" Pika Ke cheered loudly. Clearly, for those jumping, this was an inspiring start to the battle, and it seemed to have gotten off to a good start.
The parachutes were like flowers blooming in the sky, then gently landing on the ground. The soft soil gave the landing paratroopers a very comfortable feeling.
Winters quickly packed his parachute gear, then began to shout loudly, "Easy Company, assemble!"
"Hurry up, brother!" Paul Rogers landed, glanced at the limping Gus, and smiled, "Getting back to jumping, a little out of practice? You really shouldn't have come out."
Gus, while organizing his equipment, followed him and said, "Rogers, I don't want to be assigned to other units. I want to be with my brothers. My injury is completely healed! The bullet went through. I should have come back a long time ago!"
"Alright, let's hurry. Captain Winters is calling us!" Rogers grabbed Gus's arm and helped him run towards the assembly point. The brothers of Easy Company were the first to assemble, which demonstrated their superior quality compared to other companies.
The 101st Airborne Division's mission was the fifteen-mile long road from Eindhoven to Veghel, which later became known as Hell's Highway. The land within five hundred feet around the road was low-lying and flat, mostly marshland, with streams and rivers surrounding it. The key terrain features were the bridges over the river obstacles. Rows of bushes and trees, like the hedgerows of Normandy, reduced visibility to only a few hundred yards. Vehicles leaving the road immediately became stuck in the mud. This terrain was easy to defend and difficult to attack.
The American airborne forces' mission was to control the road and its many bridges to clear the way for the British 30th Corps. This corps, with the Guards Armored Division as its vanguard, would advance to Arnhem and then cover the entire Lower Rhine River area.
Easy Company's landing zone was 30 kilometers from the front line, and about 15 kilometers north of Eindhoven. The 506th Regiment's primary targets were Thorn, then Eindhoven, which meant they had to march south first. The entire regiment began its movement: 1st Battalion crossed the fields to the west of the road, 2nd Battalion advanced along the road, and 3rd Battalion brought up the rear. The 2nd Battalion's marching order was: D Company leading, followed by Easy Company, Battalion HQ, and F Company.
D Company advanced on the road, while Easy Company was on D Company's flank. Behind them followed Battalion HQ and F Company. Easy Company's flank was farmland, which felt very soft to walk on.
"The great war has begun!" Nixon walked beside Winters. He had rushed from Battalion HQ behind to the front; he just wanted to march with Winters.
"Yes, a great war. I hope everything goes smoothly!" Winters nodded.
Nixon also nodded: "I hope Reese can successfully link up with the British 1st Airborne Division. This is their only chance!"
Winters did not immediately respond. He walked for a while, then suddenly said to Nixon, "Nick, why did Parks want a platoon of brothers to participate in this operation!"
Nixon was startled, then immediately realized the problem: "I also found it very strange. If it's purely a reconnaissance mission, the number of people is clearly a bit too many. Are you saying…"
"Yes, I just noticed this problem. If it's just pure reconnaissance, a platoon isn't needed, unless Parks originally had some plans or expectations. He must know that even if they reconnoitered real intelligence, it might not be adopted by the proud British. They wouldn't abandon the entire massive operation plan for a Lieutenant. So, Parks must have his own plans!"
Nixon smiled: "If that's the case, then what do we have to worry about him for?"
"Yes, now we should be frowning about our own mission. It's clear that Parks' intelligence is accurate; the Germans won't make it easy for us!" Winters nodded, then looked at the endless road ahead, with a faint unease hidden in his heart.
As Winters expected, Parks did have some foresight. They were now quietly ambushed around Arnhem Bridge. He and Welsh were lying at the very front, and behind them were all the brothers of First Platoon, camouflaged with weeds. They held their breath and waited quietly.
"The Germans aren't doing anything!" Welsh put down his binoculars, then handed them to Parks, and whispered, "They're acting like they're on vacation, leisurely and carefree. I really envy them!"
Parks took the binoculars and looked through them, then chuckled softly, "Before a big war, things always appear more peaceful; that's how war can show its cruelty."
"Excellent theory!" Welsh smiled.
Then, just as he was about to say something else, a faint roar came from the sky. He turned in surprise and looked at the sky north of the bridge, where a large mass of dark clouds was faintly drifting over the horizon.
"It's the sound of planes!" Although the sound was not loud, Welsh quickly identified its characteristics.
Parks nodded, then looked at his pocket watch, and smiled slightly, "Yes, it's planes. There are fighters, C-47 transport planes, and quite a few gliders. Operation Garden has begun, Harry!"
Sure enough, the sound grew louder and louder, gradually becoming a huge, harmonious roar, and then the huge dark cloud came closer and closer, becoming clearer and clearer. It was a massive Allied air fleet.
"It's magnificent!" Welsh exclaimed involuntarily, "This is a great operation!"
Parks shook his head and said, "This is also a costly and failed operation, Harry. Don't forget the German armored groups. They are quietly waiting here, then waiting for the British to land, then surrounding them, and devouring them one by one with these steel beasts. The British defeat is obvious."
"What should we do?" Welsh couldn't help but smile bitterly, "We only have one platoon, we can't do anything!"
Parks smiled at the corner of his mouth and said, "Let the British suffer enough, then we'll come and save them, and let them know that they were terribly wrong!"
The paratroopers of the British 1st Airborne Division jumped from the transport planes, then opened their parachutes in the air, a truly spectacular sight.
It was also the First Platoon's first time witnessing such a large-scale parachute drop from the ground during the day, and the sheer scale of it was clearly enough to shock them.
The brothers of the First Platoon all gaped, looking up at the sky in astonishment.
"My God!" Webster exclaimed, "This is a great masterpiece by the Allied."
"I hope they know about the German armored forces here so they can be prepared, otherwise, they'll just be crushed by the German and sent to hell!" Guarnere said grimly.
It was clear that the more spectacular the parachute drop, the greater the tragedy they would face, something almost everyone currently hiding here knew.
"What should we do?" Webster looked at Guarnere and asked, "Just stay hidden here, doing nothing? That doesn't seem right, we should find a way to help them!"
"Help them?" Guarnere sneered, "The British are arrogant and overconfident; they deserve to suffer and learn why we are here.
It's all because of their ignorance.
They should be taught a lesson."
Guarnere's words, to some extent, represented the feelings of many of the brothers lying there.
They couldn't help but smile knowingly; they were quite happy to see the British suffer.
Even Parks and Welsh felt the same way.
Parks intended to help the British at a critical moment, and Welsh absolutely agreed with this.
Parks and Welsh continued to observe the German.
The German were clearly startled by the sudden airborne landing of the British paratroopers; the spectacular sight in the sky was truly astonishing in broad daylight.
There was chaos on the bridge, with German soldiers constantly running back and forth on the bridge deck.
They clearly couldn't understand why the British would land here, as to the German, this was the rear.
It had no value whatsoever.
"Later, Field Marshal Model, the supreme commander of the German here, will come from the north side of the bridge.
I think we have a chance to snipe him!" Parks suddenly whispered to Welsh.
"What?" Welsh's eyes suddenly lit up, and he smiled at Parks, "You want to ambush them here?
A German Field Marshal, what a great idea!"
"No, we'll let him pass; there will be other opportunities.
If we ambush him now, we'll expose ourselves to the German too early, and then we'll be in trouble.
Trading a whole platoon for one damned Field Marshal, I'd be losing money!" Parks blinked, "Don't worry, Welsh, we can appear in places the German least expect at any time!"
"I knew you'd say that!" Welsh nodded.
"What we need to do now is wait quietly and look for an opportunity!" Parks said, "We are like black panthers, solitary, calm, agile, and capable of delivering a fatal blow to our opponents."
"Black Panthers? I like it!" Welsh grinned.
Even Parks hadn't anticipated that the name he casually mentioned would later become the name of an American special assault team, and the Black Panther assault team, originally belonging to France, would prematurely come under American ownership.
The original American Navy SEALs ultimately did not appear in later generations; instead, it was replaced by the famous Black Panther assault team after this operation.
This was a complete accident.
The British's successful landing made German Field Marshal Model very nervous.
Upon receiving the report, he immediately issued an order: evacuate the command post and immediately retreat to the south bank of the bridge.
This left the accompanying staff officers greatly puzzled.
But Model's explanation was astounding.
"Why would the British land here?
There's nothing here.
The most important thing here is me; their goal is to capture me.
I am their objective!
So I must withdraw the command post to the south bank and not let their scheme succeed.
I want our armored vehicles to firmly hold the bridgehead, making it impossible for the British to advance an inch!"
But no matter how he thought about it, this strengthened Model's determination to resist.
He would absolutely not allow himself to fall into the hands of the British.
Their convoy began to cross the Arnhem Bridge, and he stood on an armored vehicle, his upper body exposed, his head held high, advancing towards the south bank of the bridge, with a large armored force behind him.
It was precisely Model's temporary misjudgment that allowed the British to easily advance towards the north side of the bridge.
They encountered minimal resistance; the German themselves abandoned the north side of the bridge, preparing for a desperate battle with the British across the bridge.
"They really did pass through here." Welsh put down his binoculars and couldn't help but smile at Parks, "You always predict so accurately, but it's a pity we can't do anything right now!"
"There's nothing to regret!" Parks chuckled, "The best is yet to come!"
Yes, the best of Parks' plan was yet to come.
The Allied airborne landing on the 17th was unusually smooth, which greatly boosted their confidence.
All the troops were rushing forward.
Soon they occupied the town of Thorn.
The arrival of the American made the people of this town ecstatic; they felt they had been liberated, and almost everyone poured into the streets.
Orange flags fluttered from every window.
This was absolutely forbidden during the German occupation.
But now, the residents here hung such flags on the streets and in their windows without any hesitation.
Residents stood on both sides of the road, as if waiting to watch a parade.
On the streets, the Dutch sang celebratory songs, orderly and fervent; they had been suppressed for too long.
Now they could finally vent, expressing their cheers for freedom and the American soldiers through song.
"Heliger, tell your brothers to hurry up, don't drag your feet, and tell those greenhorns to move quickly, don't get lost in this atmosphere!" Winters was angry at some of the new recruits who were mixed in with the crowds and cheers, as they were delaying the entire operation.
Of course, many more veterans were also inadvertently enjoying this time, shamelessly accepting cigars and fruit from the Dutch, and embracing and kissing the enthusiastic Dutch girls without a care.
"This feels truly wonderful!" Muck had just struggled out of a Dutch girl's embrace, then shouted at the soldiers who were still lingering and reluctant to move, "Guys, we have to go!"
Suddenly, an even louder cheer erupted from the crowd; British tanks drove into the streets of Thorn.
The long line of tanks made the residents here ecstatic; they were even more certain that they had been liberated.
They quickly surrounded the incoming tanks, and some girls even climbed onto the vehicles to embrace and kiss the tank crew members who emerged from the hatches.
"Hurry, brothers, this is not a place to stay long!" Talbert stood on a tank that was surrounded by the crowd and unable to move, "Muck, go rally your brothers, we need to leave here quickly.
Damn it, go kick those greenhorns' butts, they haven't even fought yet and they've already learned to enjoy themselves, quickly!"
"Damn it, Sergei, we have to go!" Muck pulled Sergei away; he was grabbing apples from a Dutch person's basket and stuffing them into his arms.
"Okay, Sergeant! Just a moment!" He took another one, then handed it to Muck, saying, "Heaven, these Dutch are so enthusiastic, and the girls here are also very enthusiastic.
It makes one want to linger."
"You'd best save that for Captain Winters!" Muck chuckled, then grabbed an apple and took a big bite.
It was somewhat sweet, but also very sour; his luck was really bad.
"Beer, whose is this cup, here you go!" In front of a bar, a young waiter was distributing beer, and many brothers were gathered around.
Every time a cup of beer was poured, many hands reached out.
Clearly, beer was more attractive to them than girls and flowers, especially since the march had left their nerves tense and their mouths dry.
"I like this feeling!" Compton chugged a cup of beer, then smacked his lips, "Dutch beer is better than French beer, and they are more enthusiastic!"
"Buck, the entire 101st Division is stuck here now.
We will be late.
Heaven knows why those British sitting on the tanks aren't in a hurry.
Don't they know the German are waiting for us ahead?" Winters said, "Gather all the brothers; we must move forward."
But even though they clearly knew they had to move forward, the soldiers were not in a hurry.
They were thoroughly enjoying the current time, so the officers had to exert a great deal of effort to extricate them from the crowd and continue their advance.
"That felt really good just now!" Sergei was still savoring the moment; clearly, this campaign was much more pleasant than expected.
"Don't get happy too soon!" Muck walked beside Sergei, looking around.
Then he saw figures moving on the road ahead.
"German!" Someone shouted in alarm, then a sharp "whoosh—" whistling sound was heard, followed by a huge "boom—" explosion that knocked a soldier from D Company in front to the ground, emitting a tragic wail.
"Medic!" Someone screamed loudly from the front.
Everyone lay prone on the ground; successive explosions prevented them from lifting their heads, and then the sound of an MG42 machine gun, like tearing rags, began, sending cement and dirt flying everywhere along the roadside.
"This is really terrible!" Sergei pressed himself tightly to the ground, unable to help but complain loudly.
"Talbert!" Winters yelled from the ground, "Get the tanks up here, take out that 88mm gun, and that machine gun, hurry!"
Talbert quickly scrambled up from the ground and ran back; the British tanks were still behind them.
Then, guided by Talbert, they drove to the front of the column and began firing shells.
Soon, the German artillery and machine guns were taken out by tank fire.
But the German's objective had also been achieved; they were delaying the Allied advance, and even such a brief period of sniping was enough to give them time to do what they wanted.
The Thorn Bridge was just ahead.
The officers and soldiers of the 101st Division were delighted to find the bridge still standing intact.
No one spoke; everyone was excited.
Their first objective was about to be achieved; they would occupy this bridge.
Everyone ran desperately towards the bridge, wanting to stand on it and cheer.
Winters dragged Nixon, running with all his might.
Colonel Sink, despite his age, was surprisingly still able to run at the very front, astonishing Winters.
Fifty meters... forty meters... thirty meters...
Everyone was ready to start cheering.
Every soldier in the 101st Division seemed to have gone mad, desperately trying to capture that bridge.
They were all crammed onto the road, shoulder to shoulder, mouths agape, gasping for breath, as the bridge in their eyes grew larger and larger in their pupils… This was truly a magnificent moment, with everyone's movements resembling a ballet.
"It's mine, it's mine!"
Sink, with a cigar clamped between his lips, charged at the very front, the bridge in his eyes already within reach.
Thirty meters… twenty-five meters…
"Boom—" A deafening roar, and towering splashes of water erupted from the bridge, followed by a massive blast of air that pushed Sink backward, causing him to stumble and then fall onto the soldiers lying prone behind him.
"Colonel!" Winters, behind Sink, yelled out and rushed forward, only to find that Colonel Sink had already scrambled to his feet and was charging towards the bridge, completely enraged.
He hadn't expected the German to blow up the bridge at the most exciting and thrilling moment.
"Boom—" The German fired two mortar shells, attempting to blow Colonel Sink, who was charging forward, sky-high, but their shells landed in the water, sending white splashes onto Sink and thoroughly soaking him and the cigar in his mouth.
"Shit!" Sink cursed fiercely, then watched in unwilling resignation as the bridge collapsed with a roar of explosions.
He turned and shouted to the rear, "Lieutenant Colonel Strayer, immediately order the First Battalion to cross the river, and the Second Battalion to provide fire support.
Damn German, we're too late.
Hurry, hurry, build the bridge!"
"I know there are barns nearby, we can use door panels to bridge the gaps between the piers, they're still usable!" Someone from the First Battalion suggested.
This was clearly a good idea, and soon they brought many door and wooden panels, laying them on the bridge piers.
However, this was not very sturdy, allowing only a few people to cross at a time.
If the entire unit had to cross, who knew how long it would take!
Fortunately, after the German blew up the bridge, they retreated, having completed their mission of destroying the bridge.
Otherwise, if the German had attacked while the brothers were building the bridge to cross, the losses would have been immeasurable.
"God, I was really scared just now!" Nixon said to Winters beside him, still shaken.
"Colonel Sink is probably furious.
He had the 506th Regiment rush ahead, and this is the outcome.
Colonel Taylor will surely be displeased."
"We delayed too long in Thorn.
The British like to be surrounded.
They think they are liberators, but now it seems like a completely foolish idea!" Winters was clearly also dissatisfied with the British.
"This time, God is on the German's side.
Look, how much longer do we need?
Half an hour is enough, and we could have occupied this damn bridge!"
"Let's wait!" Nixon sat down and pulled out his canteen from behind him.
He had filled it with whiskey.
He took a large swig, and only then did his heart completely settle down.
"What are you thinking about?" Nixon watched Winters squatting beside him, staring intently at the First Battalion building the bridge.
"Are you wondering if this operation is worth it? Or are you thinking about how Parks and the others are doing?"
Winters glanced at him, then nodded: "Yes, I'm just a little worried.
The British have already started their attack, but there's very bad news: they've completely lost contact with us.
British communications are down, and they are now fighting alone.
I don't know if they can link up with Parks and the others!"
"I know!" Nixon nodded.
In fact, from the very beginning, they couldn't contact the British 1st Airborne Division.
Communication failure turned that Airborne Division, which had parachuted to the very front, into an isolated force.
This wasn't the worst situation; even worse was that only one battalion had parachuted about three miles from the Arnhem Bridge, but their communication with the 1st Airborne Division was completely cut off.
This meant that this battalion would have to undertake the task of attacking and holding the bridge against German attacks alone.
This battalion belonged to the 2nd Regiment of the British 1st Airborne Division's First Brigade.
Brigadier General John Frost was the commander of this regiment.
Unable to contact Division HQ, he had no choice but to lead this battalion towards the bridge on his own.
However, despite their speed, they were held back by small groups of German.
The "Panzer Reconnaissance Regiment" of the SS 9th Hohenstaufen Panzer Division in Arnhem had already passed through the Arnhem Bridge towards the Nijmegen Bridge, with no British paratroopers holding the bridge as planned to block the SS advance.
Armored vehicles and tanks streamed across the Arnhem Bridge, then headed towards the British 1st Airborne Division's drop zones, with some armored vehicles also going to support Nijmegen.
"It seems the German have woken up," Parks sighed, looking through his binoculars at the busy German armored vehicles crossing the bridge.
"The British were too slow.
And they will face German counterattacks and even encirclement!"
"What should we do?" Welsh asked Parks again.
"Wait!" Parks handed the binoculars to Welsh and said, "We wait for an opportunity.
First, we cannot appear yet, because the German's strength is still very strong.
Appearing now would be suicide!
Second, the British now believe they can capture the bridge, so they definitely think they don't need our help, so even if we sacrifice the lives of all our First Platoon brothers, it certainly won't earn us the British's gratitude.
They'll even mock us.
Third, the German haven't reached their breaking point yet, and we can only launch a surprise attack, so it's very difficult to succeed now.
Fourth, we need to throw the German into a panic, and clearly, the strength of one platoon is not enough, unless we use unusual means!"
Welsh listened to Parks's well-reasoned explanation and couldn't help but smile, "I knew you were prepared."
"Yes, victory is for those who are prepared," Parks winked at him.
"So we can always achieve victory, can't we?
To hell with the British!"
"Yes, to hell with the British!" Welsh chuckled.
Now, both of them had absolutely no good feelings for the British.
If this operation failed and resulted in heavy casualties for the brothers of Easy Company, then the British would be the culprits.
They must pay for their arrogance, and that's not enough; they must also be grateful to them after paying the price.
Thinking of this, a slight smile appeared at the corner of Parks's mouth.
So far, everything was proceeding according to history, but his presence, like a nail, would surely change the course of history, even if only a very small deviation, it would be enough.
Parks's waiting naturally had his reasons, and the brothers of the First Platoon also had no objections; everyone knew that if they jumped out and fought the German now, it would be suicide.
The British had already begun to advance towards Arnhem.
The Second Battalion of the Second Regiment, led by Brigadier General John Frost, encountered little resistance during their advance, and finally, as it approached evening, they occupied the north side of the bridge.
Through his binoculars, Parks saw a British flag raised on a bridge pier north of the bridge in Arnhem.
It seemed the British had arrived.
He couldn't help but smile slightly; the British were about to suffer.
In fact, it was exactly as Parks had predicted.
After the British occupied the north side of the bridge, they couldn't resist immediately launching an attack on the south side.
They sent two companies, moving along both sides of the bridge towards the south.
"They're coming over!" Webster, behind him, couldn't help but cheer softly.
If these paratroopers captured the south side of the bridge, it would mean he could link up with them and eventually return to Easy Company.
"The German haven't counterattacked yet!" Liebgott couldn't help but mutter, his words laced with sarcasm.
"Just wait and see!"
Yes, the German hadn't counterattacked yet, and the two British companies were already nearing the center of the bridge.
Parks couldn't help but sigh, "This is a very good slaughterhouse!"
"God bless them!" Welsh also shook his head, full of regret.
Clearly, they both saw the German's intention: they wanted to deliver a severe blow to the British when they were in the middle of the bridge, and clearly, they succeeded.
A "rumble" sounded, and several tanks and armored vehicles, with thick smoke billowing from their rears, charged onto the bridge.
Squads of German soldiers emerged from their cover, and the MG42 in the bridgehead fortress were raised, ready for action.
Clearly, the British also realized the situation.
Some wanted to lie down, some wanted to hide behind the bridge pillars, but just then, the armored vehicles and tanks opened fire, the MG42 in the fortress also began to fire madly, and the German soldiers aimed at every British soldier, firing mercilessly.
The sound of machine guns in the air seemed to tear people's lungs and crush their nerves.
The row of British paratroopers charging at the front, like yellow flowers beaten by wind and rain, collapsed amidst the trembling of blood and limbs, screaming hysterically.
Their flesh and blood splattered, covering the soldiers behind them, who were then swept down by the gunfire.
The British behind had already quickly dropped to the ground, pressing tightly against the bridge deck, not daring to move.
Some soldiers hiding behind pillars wanted to raise their guns to return fire, but as soon as they showed their heads, they were hit by German rifle fire.
Wails, cries for help, and the roar of machine guns instantly erupted on the bridge.
The German had stopped the British advance, and the armored vehicles suddenly shuddered; they began to counterattack the British.
Those British soldiers lying prone on the bridge were clearly their targets.
"Retreat, retreat!" a British officer shouted loudly, then tried to turn and run back, but he hadn't run a few steps before he was hit by a machine gun bullet.
The bullet passed through his head, and his entire skull was instantly blown off.
The other British soldiers, seeing the German armored vehicles approaching, frantically ran back, while the German behind them were like practicing shooting at targets.
"Da da da," a burst of bullets flew, and a British soldier was suddenly cut in half at the waist.
His two halves of his body fell onto the bridge deck, blood gushing from his mouth, his hand outstretched, eyes bulging, he looked with dying eyes at his companion hiding behind a bridge pillar, pleading for help, but as he opened his mouth, a gush of blood poured out.
"God, God!" The companion, seeing such a tragic scene, couldn't help but wail loudly, "Don't stare at me like that, don't stare at me like that, God—" He looked up, seeing the German armored vehicle driving towards him, then looked at his tragically dead companion, and couldn't help but scream, "Mom—"
"Mom—" He screamed again, heartbroken, then ran towards the bridge railing, flipped over, and with a long, shrill scream, plunged into the river below.
Subsequently, more people jumped off the bridge one after another, the screams never ceasing.
"It's too tragic! This is simply a massacre!" Welsh suddenly said to Parks beside him, "I really can't watch anymore!"
Only 157 soldiers from the two British Airborne Division companies returned, suffering more than half their forces, yet they hadn't even touched the south side of the bridge.
German tanks and armored vehicles pursued the retreating British, only to be repelled by British supporting soldiers with anti-tank rocket launchers on the north side of the bridge, leaving behind four burning armored vehicles and tanks, along with dozens of bodies, before retreating.
Darkness had fallen, and neither side launched an attack.
The British had suffered heavy losses and needed to rest; the German were unsure of the situation north of the bridge and dared not launch a rash attack on the British.
What they didn't realize was that the British on the north side of the bridge only had a First Battalion of troops, and they absolutely could not withstand a full-scale German assault.
Nightfall concealed the bloodstains and bodies left by the fierce fighting of the day, and its arrival allowed both British and German nerves to relax considerably.
Colonel Sink's 506th Regiment finally crossed the river completely after dark, but he received another piece of news: the British Guards Armored Division was being blocked by German 88mm guns a few kilometers south of Eindhoven.
"It seems we'll be spending the night here!" Sink said to Colonel Strehl.
"Let the brothers spend the night in the village.
We don't know the true strength of the German in the city; we'll attack when it's light."
"Alright, I'll go arrange it now!" Colonel Strehl agreed, then turned to leave.
"Colonel Strehl!" Colonel Sink called out to him from behind.
"What?" Colonel Strehl turned back to look at Colonel Sink.
Colonel Sink frowned slightly, then looked at him and said, "Is there any news of Lieutenant Parks?"
Colonel Strehl shook his head, then shrugged: "No, Colonel, they lost contact with us after reporting their last intelligence.
Their radio has remained silent, so we have no way of knowing their location or their recent situation."
Colonel Sink nodded, saying nothing, his eyes filled with worry.
The order came down, making many people sigh with relief.
Winters arranged for the platoon leaders to set up outposts, and then the rest of the brothers went to sleep, lying on haystacks, between lumber piles, or any other place they could find.
Winters found a farmhouse and slept inside with officers like Compton, Peacock, and Heliger.
The farmhouse belonged to a thin, middle-aged man, who also had a seven or eight-year-old daughter.
It was clear they were somewhat pleased by the arrival of Winters and his men, as evidenced by the irrepressible joy in his eyes.
"Do you speak English?" Winters asked him, "We just need a bed or even a haystack!"
"A little!" the man quickly replied, "I have two beds at home; we can squeeze in.
" Then he looked at his little girl and said, "We'll just sleep on the haystack; we're quite used to it anyway!"
Winters said nothing and followed the man into a room with two simple beds, but this was already much better than sleeping on haystacks and wooden boards.
As the man finished settling them in and was about to turn and leave, Peacock suddenly said, "Do you have anything to eat? We're starving."
The man was stunned, then nodded and said, "Yes, yes, wait for me!" With that, he and the little girl hurried out of the house, clearly going to find food.
"Peacock!" Winters said with some displeasure as he watched them leave, "That's not a good habit."
Peacock chuckled sheepishly, "I'll be careful, Captain!"
Winters nodded and said nothing more.
He was actually starving himself, and k ration was truly difficult to swallow, so if there was any supplementary food, that would naturally be best.
He just wasn't accustomed to Peacock's method.
Soon the man returned, cradling several large bottles with the little girl.
They were filled with cured meat, dried peaches, and cherry jam.
He then handed all these items to Peacock and Heliger next to him.
"Thank you!" Heliger smiled as he took them.
At this moment, Compton pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed it to the man.
Heliger gave the bottles to Peacock, took a chocolate bar from a D ration, gave it to the little girl, then squatted down and smiled at her, saying, "Chocolate!"
The little girl timidly took it, then hid behind her father, hugging his leg, and peeked out, smiling at Heliger, revealing a few pretty teeth.
The man tore open the chocolate wrapper and handed it to the little girl, then smiled sheepishly at the four men, saying, "She's never tasted chocolate before; this is her first time!"
He then reached out and stroked the little girl's head, his eyes showing affection.
"Want a smoke?" Peacock gestured to him, then found matches.
The man quickly tore open the pack of cigarettes, took one out, and as Peacock struck the match, he lit it and took a deep drag, a look of great comfort on his face.
"I haven't had a real cigarette in five years.
It tastes really good!" He smiled sheepishly at Peacock, raising the cigarette in his hand and saying, "It's really excellent!"
The man took two more strong puffs, then smiled at the four men and said, "I won't disturb you anymore; you all get some good sleep.
The German are gone; we've been waiting for this day!" Then he pulled the little girl, who was munching on chocolate and smiling at Winters and his men, and left.
"He really is a good man!" Peacock couldn't help but smile, then he opened a bottle of cured meat, tasted a piece, and chuckled, "It tastes really good."
"To be honest, I've dealt with both the British and the French.
They're different from the Netherlands." Heliger handed Winters and Compton a bottle each and smiled, "Comparatively, I prefer the Netherlands.
They're very hospitable!"
"Yes!" Winters nodded, "I like them too!" He then pried open a bottle, scooped out a piece of dried peach, put it in his mouth, and nodded, "It tastes really good!"
That night, there was no harassment from the German.
After a day of marching, the brothers could finally get some comfortable sleep, even though the faint sound of 88mm guns still echoed from Eindhoven not far away.
The next morning, the troops continued their advance, with the 2nd Battalion closely following the 1st Battalion south along the road.
Ahead lay the city of Eindhoven.
The city had a population of 100,000, surrounded by flat, dark, fertile fields.
At this point, Colonel Sink deployed the entire regiment, sending the 2nd Battalion forward to the left, with Easy Company on the far left.
Winters contacted Lieutenant Compton of Third Platoon via radio: "Buck, have Brewer send out scouts."
Brewer arranged for Third Platoon to begin scouting forward, with scouts in front, the troops spread out, advancing quickly.
Third Platoon moved through vegetable gardens and newly plowed fields towards the houses on the edge of the city.
However, it was clear that Brewer made a big mistake: he walked at the front of the column, his map case slung diagonally at his side, and a pair of binoculars around his neck, looking like an officer at a glance.
Even worse, he stopped at the very front of the column, then raised his binoculars to observe the city, which made him appear very impressive.
"Where did he learn all this?" At this moment, Gus, who was following behind, couldn't help but say to Talbert next to him, "He looks like a marshal reviewing soldiers right now!"
"He might have learned from General Patton, but that makes him a very good target!" Talbert replied, then shouted loudly to Brewer in front, "Lieutenant, sniper!"
Winters also yelled into the walkie-talkie: "Get down, hit the deck! Dammit, hurry!"
But Brewer didn't hear.
He continued to observe.
Everyone in Easy Company, everyone in the First Battalion, knew what was about to happen.
"Bang!" A gunshot rang out.
A sniper fired from a house.
Brewer fell to the ground, like a felled log, collapsing straight down.
The bullet hit him directly in the throat, just below the jaw.
"This is terrible!" Talbert rushed forward with a few men, then examined Brewer's wound.
Blood gushed from his neck, and his entire body was convulsing.
"Oh, God!" someone said, "He's done for, he's dying."
"You all advance quickly!" Talbert gave the order, then turned and shouted loudly, "Medic, medic, someone's wounded.
Hurry up!" His hand pressed tightly against Brewer's neck, his hand covered in blood.
Medic Eugene Roffey quickly ran over, then pressed Brewer's hand with one hand and shouted, "Sergeant, you can let go; leave this to me!
I can handle it." He skillfully took out bandages from his first aid kit, wrapped Brewer's neck, and shouted loudly, "Stretcher, hurry, I need to get this man back immediately!"
Brewer's stretcher passed by Winters, who glanced at Brewer and couldn't help but shake his head, "What a foolish act!"
"This is the influence of the 'general effect'; I think many mid- and lower-ranking officers are happy to imitate General Patton's behavior, just to see his prestige!" Nixon said from the side, "Hopefully, this is a lesson, to let those officers eager to show off know that if you want to stand out, you'll get shot; that's for sure."
"Hopefully!" Winters nodded, then shouted to the front, "Buck, you personally lead the team; we'll be your backup!" Then, seeing Compton about to rush forward, he quickly added, "Don't show off!"
"I know, Dick!" Buck chuckled, "That's not me!" With that, he led the remaining brothers of Third Platoon to rejoin the brothers up ahead.
After this, the brothers only encountered some minor and sporadic resistance, mainly from snipers.
The 506th Regiment encountered no other difficulties on their way into Eindhoven.
When they entered the city of Eindhoven, they received a grand welcome from the Netherlands, who were as enthusiastic and frenzied as the residents of Thorn.
Compared to the 101st Airborne Division, on this day, the British First Airborne Division was struggling in a painful encirclement.
The three regiments of the Airborne Division's First Brigade successively attacked and reached the north side of the bridge to rendezvous with the First Battalion, but their forces were greatly depleted, either killed by the German during the advance or captured by the German.
Even among the soldiers who reached the bridge, many were wounded.
Parks led First Platoon, continuing to wait in the woods.
They retreated into the woods at night, then rested, waiting for the next day.
They did not receive Parks's order to attack, and after witnessing the tragic plight of the British Airborne Division on the first day, no one questioned Parks again: "What should we do?"
They were willing to stay there until the war ended.